Earlier this fall I was telling the story about Elisabeta, the Romani woman making her living outside my grocery store. She has been on her knees on the purple inflatable cushion for more than a year now, always happy with a smile on her face however dark, rainy, snowy and cold the Umeå winter is.
We see each other Mondays and Thursdays as I am picking up my groceries and we talk to each other in the little language we have in common, a few words of English. What can I get you today? Chicken. Most often she needs a warm grilled chicken or some fruit. Sometimes money for gas for her cold trailer where she lives with her three little children. I wonder if she waits for me Mondays and Thursdays. Trusting and knowing those days she will return to her family with something to eat or with the possibility to buy heating for a few days.
I feel like we are friends, Elisabeta and me, although I am fully aware of me being in absolute power. And I have been dreaming of being able to talk to her for real. To find out what it was like being back in Rumania this summer. What it is like being here besides the cold and dark. Getting to know her a little bit.
A few weeks ago it was time for some staff changes within my home care company. It happens on a regular basis, as working in home service is more or less a transition job. It is always hard on me. Connecting-getting to know-feeling safe-becoming friends is a process taking it’s time, and loosing-grieving-letting go meanwhile welcoming new people starting all over again is pretty draining. I know it will always be okay in a while, and often more than okay, even amazing, but the transition is difficult.
This time around one of the new people in my life is Daniel. He is a sweet young man, about 20. I couldn’t quite trace his accent first time we met. I was figuring maybe Finnish with something more mixed into it. It turned out he was Rumanian. He came to Umeå in his mid teens to stay with his uncle and went to school here for a year before returning to Rumania where he was for five years. But decided on Umeå again this spring. His Swedish is absolutely amazing, and as every young person from other countries and cultures I have met who has made difficult decisions following them through, he is reflective and wise and by experience more my age than 20.
Imagine my excitement when I realized Daniel would be able making Elisabeta and I talk to each other!!!
The Monday afternoon was dark and rainy when Elisabeta and I greeted each other with our usual cheery hello. And I said, Elisabeta I have brought a gift for us, this is Daniel!
Daniel started talking to her in Rumanian and she was probably in a mild chock. Except for the Romanies there isn’t a lot of Rumanians in Umeå. She looked down, stroke her eyes, partly covering them, I had a feeling she was uncomfortable. In the store later I asked Daniel. Yes, she was probably startled by the situation. And maybe ashamed to meet a compatriot, bent on her knees. A compatriot who is still different.
Placing the warm chicken in her hand, she asked me through Daniel if I knew somewhere they could set up their trailer. Due to a road construction the Romany camp is evacuated by the City from the piece of land the church has been letting up for them until now. I felt so ashamed shaking my head saying no, I am so sorry, but no.
And of course I am thinking I am out here at the end of the road on my own land. There is place for a trailer. But they want to be all together and they need water and toilets. I am discussing with Daniel on our way back here, and yes, they need to be not too far from the city either, where they make their living. But still. As I am warm on my couch in the evening. But still.
Monday this week Elisabeta had good news, they had been offered rooms at a shelter. It made me so happy and maybe even more happy that she through Daniel could bring me the news! This was the second time for the three of us, and Elisabeta seemed to be more at ease with the situation. She asked me what was wrong with me. For more than a year now she has watched me being helped in and out of the home care car by a number of aids. Now I could tell. She was concerned and wished me good health and would pray for me. And she thanked me for my good heart and soul and on top of that she thought I was beautiful! Forte beautiful! We all laughed and Daniel told me they they were using the Italian word forte (which means strong) for amplification all the time.
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